


remember when the boys were all electric

by mundaneanarchy



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, First Kiss, Frottage, Growing Up Together, Kid Fic, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundaneanarchy/pseuds/mundaneanarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt and Hermann meet when they're eight and kiss when they're eighteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	remember when the boys were all electric

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song "fluorescent adolescent" (which btw is basically hs!hermann/newt in song form ditto the entire album "favourite worst nightmare")  
> warning!!!! for very very very slight homophobic language if there's anything anything anything wrong or makes u uncomfortable p l e a s e comment and tell me so i can make appropriate changes  
> apologies bc this whole thing is quite trash and might not even make sense really bc i jumped around while writing it im hesitant abt even posting it lmao good luck

Newton Geiszler is not a nerd.

Newton Geiszler has four leather jackets and six AC/DC tee shirts and has seen _Godzilla_ thirty-nine times. Newton Geiszler plays a sick guitar riff and sings lead vocals in his own goddamn band. Newton Geiszler can tell you the periodic table backwards and forwards in one minute flat with his eyes closed and can switch between fluent English and German without hesitation. Newton Geiszler is president of the Anime Club, the Science Club, and could be valedictorian if he didn’t insist on half-assing every class other than the “interesting ones” (see: anything science-related). Newton Geiszler has a tattoo sleeve and is saving up for his second and eventually (hopefully) his entire chest, despite the adamant protests of his father. Newton Geiszler is on his way to getting a scholarship to MIT; he can feel it on the tips of his fingers and in the static in his hair. Newton Geiszler’s gonna be a fucking rock star-slash-biologist, the world’s first and foremost.

Newton Geiszler is the opposite of a nerd.

Now _Hermann Gottlieb_.

There’s a goddamn nerd.

Hermann Gottlieb seems to only own clothes that are either ten sizes two large or too small for him—there is no in between. Hermann Gottlieb only has two emotions: grandpa and super grandpa. Hermann Gottlieb scowls at the mention of fun and is frightened by any music that isn’t classical and, like, two decibels loud. Hermann Gottlieb thinks math ( _math_ , for Chrissake’s) is more interesting than dissecting a fucking frog and pretends to be a wide-eyed innocent teacher’s pet but swears in German under his breath at nearly everyone who crosses his path. Hermann Gottlieb has that stupid haircut Newt is 90% sure he does himself and criminally fantastic bone structure and the most ridiculous wrinkles—who the hell gets smile lines in high school, Jesus Christ—and when he thinks you’re not looking he’ll do something stupid like _smile_ at you and your whole heart feels like it’s gonna fall out of your butt and you’re gonna vomit up your intestines if you don’t stick your tongue as far down his throat as you can manage it—

But that’s all getting a bit ahead of things.

…

They meet first in third grade at Pacific Elementary and it’s hate at first sight.

Hermann is the new kid from Germany and there’s excitement about it for weeks preceding and Newt is so amped he can’t even sit still in class. He hopes and prays he’ll have someone to whisper in German with at lunch and share his love of monster movies and kaiju action figures and maybe have someone to play with at recess for once.

These dreams are shattered—or so they seem to be—when the first official words out of young Hermann Gottlieb’s mouth are an insult.

“The head is disproportionate to the body,” Hermann says, and he means it to be purely informative but he hasn’t mastered tone in his state of youthful naiveté and so instead it comes out nasty and mocking. “If it ever went into combat it would fall face first and any hopes of it defeating any sort of opponent would be totally shattered.”

Newt covers up the drawing with his arms as best as he can and looks over his shoulder at Hermann with his face scrunched up in hatred. “Who said you could go around looking at other people’s drawings?”

“It’s not as if there was a lock and key on it.”

“Yeah, well, shut up. Go away and talk to someone who cares, alright? I don’t like you.”

“Well, good, because I don’t like you very much either.”

“Good! I don’t want you to like me!”

“Good!”

Hermann turns around and storms to the opposite corner of the room and Newt scribbles out his drawing so violently he rips up the next six pages in his notebook.

…

It’s only been two days and somehow the general consensus has turned Hermann into the Smartest Kid in Third Grade, properly bumping Newt on the scale to the embarrassing #2.

Newt spends every day glaring at the back of Hermann’s head and making a show of rolling his eyes or scoffing loudly whenever Hermann raises his hand in class (which is quite a lot, it must be said). The other students are all reasonably uncomfortable by the newfound tension in the classroom but they stick to calling Newt names as they always have and as third-graders are bound to do.

One evening Newt’s walking home from school, taking the shortcut home through the woods, when he hears a soft whimpering. He searches through the trees curiously and is shocked to find Hermann Gottlieb sitting on the ground, tears staining his cheeks and dirt marking up his pristine trousers. He cradles his leg and rocks back in forth, crying gently.

Newt kneels down and Hermann looks surprised when he first takes notice of him, then angry. He scowls and turns his head away, furiously wiping his tears away. “Go on, then. Mock me, Geiszler.”

“Why would I mock you, dude?” Newt asks earnestly.

“It seems to be your favourite pastime.”

Newt frowns and looks at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. My dad says I don’t have much of a filter. Guess he’s right.”

Hermann looks up at him, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “My driver never showed up—and my father would not answer his cell phone—and I was walking home but I got confused and—and I fell and I think I may have twisted my ankle.”

Newt leans down and presses a hand against Hermann’s leg. Hermann grimaces and pulls away.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look good.” Newt stands up and extends a hand to Hermann. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

Hermann looks at the hand suspiciously but takes it. Newt pulls him up and shrugs under Hermann’s arm to allow him to lean on him and use him for support. They hobble through the woods with Newt carrying both their backpacks without even the slightest complaint and being careful to point out any dangerous rocks or branches on the ground.

They arrive at a very modest-looking house that’s a bit run down but still cozy as can be. Hermann marvels at all the genuinely happy family photos around the house of two extremely similar looking men grinning next to Newt and looking extremely proud and caring. In one Newt stands next to what Hermann guesses is his father, holding a large fish and smiling so hard it hurts Hermann’s eyes. In another Newt, his father, and the similar-looking man (a cousin or uncle maybe? Perhaps even a stepfather?) are dressed in suits with Newt on his uncle/cousin/stepfather’s shoulders holding up a scientific certificate and giving the camera a thumbs up and a blinding grin. In every picture the men show heaps of adoration and love, all of which seems so foreign to Hermann. He finds it strange that families might put pictures of themselves on the wall instead of expensive art or certificates boasting their accomplishments.

Newt returns from the kitchen to where Hermann is sitting on the couch and hands him a glass of water and half a PB&J sandwich. Hermann is so grateful for the extension of peace he can’t bear to admit he’s allergic to nuts.

Newt stuffs half the sandwich in his mouth and says with his mouth full, “Your ankle doesn’t look broken or anything. You’d be in a lot more pain if it was. I think if you just rest it awhile it’ll get better.”

“How do you know?”

Newt shrugs and falls on the couch next to him. “Read a book about it once.”

A door slams shut and a booming voice with a thick German accent echoes from the front of the house. “Newt! Newt, are you home yet?”

“In here, Dad!” Newt calls.

A cheery, portly man stumbles into the living room and stops short when he catches sight of Hermann. “Oh, who’s this, then?”

“Hermann.” Newt nods to his right as if that’s a sufficient answer at all.

“Hello, Mr. Geiszler,” Hermann says shyly.

“Newt, you didn’t tell me you were going to have a friend over.” His voice forces sternness but the expression on his face is of pure joy.

“I found him walking home alone through the woods like an idiot,” Newt explains. Hermann opens his mouth to protest at the insult but shuts it out of politeness. “Twisted his ankle and all. D’you think he could just rest here for a little bit and then you can give him a ride home when you’re ready?”

“Sure thing.” He grins and ruffles Newt’s hair. Newt bats his arm away and scowls. “Tell me if you children need anything. Hermann, whenever you need a ride just tell me, okay?”

Hermann smiles and nods. He watches Newt’s father disappear down the hallway and into his bedroom and waits a few seconds after the door is definitely closed to say softly, “Your father seems very kind.”

Newt glances over at him. “Uh, okay, dude. You wanna watch some TV or something?”

“Okay.”

Newt turns on the TV and sits up taller, grinning madly. “Aw, shit, dude, look at that—Fresh Prince is on!”

“The what?”

“Fresh Prince of Bel Air!” He turns and furrows his brow in confusion. “Have you never seen Fresh Prince?”

“No.”

“What about Saved by the Bell?”

“No.”

“That 70’s Show?”

“Which 70’s show?”

“Are you _serious_?” Newt cries. “What, are you too good for TV or something else dumb like that?”

“We don’t have a television at my house.”

“No kidding?” Newt says, a bit louder than necessary. Hermann shakes his head. “That’s _crazy_ , man. No wonder you’re so weird.”

“I am not _weird_ ,” Hermann snaps.

“Right, sorry, God, sorry,” Newt stammers. “It’s that ‘no filter’ thing rearing its ugly head again. Sorry, dude.”

Hermann sits taller and smoothes out the invisible wrinkles in his shirt. “It’s okay.”

Newt turns his head and watches this weird kid who looks like he’s nine but holds himself like he’s ninety and grins. “Y’know, you’re not that bad after all, Gottlieb.”

Hermann turns and glares at him, except for some reason it’s more affable this time. “I suppose you’re not totally useless as well.”

Newt’s face breaks out into a wide grin. “Thanks, man. I like you, too.”

Hermann stares ahead at the TV and smiles to himself for the first time since he’s moved to this blasted country.

…

Perhaps ‘inseparable’ isn’t quite the word, but it’s certainly the one that fits.

Newt didn’t exactly have a commonwealth of friends in the first place given his know-it-all nature and abrasive attitude, and after the initial excitement of having a new kid dies down Hermann’s left with nothing but apathetic teachers and students who are already bored by the sight of him. It’s only a matter of time, really, until Newt and Hermann begrudgingly become best friends.

They spend most of their time at Newt’s house arguing about stupid things like music (Newt insists classic rock and heavy metal are the sounds of the gods; Hermann thinks anything other than classical isn’t ‘real music’), the best subject in school (“Maths, obviously.” “Recess!” “Be more childish, Newton.” “We’re in _third grade_ , dude! _You_ be more childish!”), and spend a surprising amount of time on the best color (“I’m just saying that black is, like, the coolest color on the planet. It’s a scientific fact; even you can’t argue with science, Hermann.” “We are not doing this again, Newton.”).

But there is one thing they both like: monster movies.

Newton loves the way the kaiju move and behave and the strength that emanates from their every pore. He marvels, each and every time, at the casualty of their movements and the power behind each roar. Hermann stares with wide eyes and tense interest at the heroes of the story; the brave men who conquer their fears for the good of an entire nation—of an entire world.

And while they do tend to argue on whether to sympathize with the people or the kaiju, in the end it always dissolves into a mutual agreement that kaiju movies are totally and profoundly _awesome_.

…

(They don’t know that this argument will haunt them into adulthood; only later it will be much more disastrous and much, much less hypothetical.)

…

Middle school comes around and they have more friends and they’re less isolated but still for some strange reason all they have is each other.

Junior high is usually where people start to drift apart; no one can quite explain why Newton Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb drift together.

Then they meet Tendo Choi.

“Transfer student from China—that’s right, you heard me, boys,” the stumpy looking kid with too much gel in his hair and suspenders that are too big for him says, grinning like he’s in a toothpaste commercial. He winks at Newt flirtatiously. “Treat me right and you kiddos could get a first-class ticket back to the exotic land of Asia with me over holiday break.”

Hermann wrinkles up his nose and turns to share an exhausted look with Newt, but he’s already smiling fervently at Tendo with hearts in his eyes.

“Newt,” he says, stumbling over himself to step closer to Tendo. “And that’s Hermann. Don’t mind him, he doesn’t get out much.”

“Nice to meet you, Newt.” Tendo shakes his hand ( _A hand shake? Really?_ Hermann thinks. _Slap a bow tie on him and he’s officially the cheesiest man alive._ ) and looks at Newt with what Hermann classifies as Way Too Much Eye Contact. “Walk me to class?”

Newt practically trips over his own feet grabbing Tendo’s books and ultimately leaves Hermann in the dust without so much as a second thought.

…

Soon Tendo is all Newt can think about. Tendo, Tendo, Tendo. And he’s inviting him to everything, to their movie nights and their weekend plans and to blow shit up in the park.

And it’s not even just Newt who falls head over heels. It’s the whole school. Tendo Choi wears button ups and corduroys and suspenders and even a fucking bowtie. And he looks _good_ in them, goddamn him. He pulls his look off with confidence and ease whereas Hermann can’t even _find_ a pair of pants that fit his weird, gangly legs, much less summon the courage to even pretend to look good in them. Tendo Choi dates an eighth grader in his first week and a ninth grader in his second. Tendo Choi walks with the type of grace and swagger Hermann wouldn’t dare to dream of and makes girls’ eyelashes flutter and makes guys who yell ‘faggot’ in the hallways turn their heads. Tendo Choi earns little old Newt and Hermann a seat at the jock table and manages to get them all to not groan that loudly when The Nerds take a seat. Tendo Choi is what Hermann’s father calls ‘a social butterfly’.

“Now there,” Lars says icily at the dinner table, the first time they’ve eaten together in months, “is a boy with _connections_.”

The worst part about Tendo is that he’s _lovely_. He’s charming, he’s witty, he’s humble, he’s smart, he’s friendly, and he’s beautiful. He’s perfectly infuriating.

“Hermann Gottlieb! My main mathematic man!” Tendo exclaims when he sees Hermann. Every day it’s a new compliment without fail, and every day they only get more and more genuine. “My beacon of brilliance, my genuine grade-A genius, how’s it hanging? Been working out, buddy? Been lifting? You look good, you really do. The grumpy old dude look suits you, it really, truly, and honestly does, my friend.”

And Hermann wants to hate him but he physically can’t bring himself to so he settles for forced politeness and sparing bouts of passive aggression or curtness. Tendo, of course, being Tendo, always brushes these bouts off with a laugh and a “You kill me, bud, you really do.”

And so Hermann hates him but he doesn’t and misses Newt but he pretends not to and everyone else seems to live their life blissfully unaware, which isn’t so bad, he guesses. At least it’s nothing new.

…

Tendo and Newt are on-again-off-again in the most juvenile sense of the term, meaning they flirt between classes and everyone knows it and it’s obvious but at some point they start feeding less off the attraction and more on the attention to the point where the tension is so much more exciting than an actual relationship could ever be. So they keep on flirting right in front of Hermann like he’s not even there and being friends and calling themselves a trifecta but Hermann knows what’s really going on.

…

So it’s freshman year of high school and Hermann is, miraculously, almost semi-popular and his best friend hasn’t totally forgotten him and his grades are good and things are almost okay, which is a strange thing for things to be for Hermann Gottlieb.

And it’s freshman year of high school and Newton Geiszler is a rock god, at least in his own mind, and he’s only two years away from biology and he’s got Hermann and Tendo and his uncle promised to get him a part-time job so he can work up close and personal with the hottest new technology yet and things are Fuckin’ A, Dude.

And if he notices that Hermann fills out his sweatervests a lot better than he did last year and that he’s starting to grow into that stupid, floppy haircut, well, he doesn’t have to say anything about it.

…

It’s freshman year and Newt and Tendo are still a Thing But Not Really A Thing and it’s awkward but so is high school so he guesses it’s really not that bad, all things considered.

It’s freshman year and Hermann had to cancel at the last minute for movie night and Newt’s sitting on the ground watching _Godzilla_ for the twenty-fourth time when he looks over and Tendo’s looking right at him and his heart stops in his chest.

And he doesn’t know what’s happening but he leans forward because that’s what you do in these situations, right? And it’s three years in the making and suddenly he’s _kissing_ Tendo Choi and, God, that’s weird. That’s weird as all hell.

And he pulls back and Tendo’s got the same puzzled look on his face that Newt does.

“Was that good for you?” Tendo asks, and Newt wants to laugh but he doesn’t because it’s not a joke.

“Uh. No?”

“That was weird, right?” Tendo slumps back against the couch. “All this time I thought we had sexual tension. Turns out we’re just really good friends. Huh.” He furrows his brow and presses his lips together.

Newt nods and sits in silence. He turns his head and forgets where he is for a moment and gasps. “Shit, I love this part!”

And somehow it’s like it never happened because they’re young and they’re reckless and they’re Rock Stars, Baby and because when you’re fourteen and you kiss someone in your basement while your dad’s sleeping upstairs it doesn’t have to mean anything. Because when you’re fourteen and you kiss someone in your basement while the lights are off and the adrenaline is high it doesn’t have to hurt.

…

The next Monday no one can tell a difference except for Hermann. He keeps looking between them, at the way they don’t stand as close to each other and the way they make the same jokes and act in the same friendly manner but how at lunch they sit across from each other instead of plastered to each other’s side.

He grins a little more at Newt that day and Newt grins back because, hell, throw him a bone, why don’t you. It’s about time the poor guy got something other than last-minute plans and ‘Sorry, I can’t, Tendo and I are doing something’.

It’s about time Newt worried about someone else for a change.

…

Sophomore year rolls around and Newt starts Pacific High’s first ever Science Club. He drags Hermann into joining it despite the protests that he’s already head of the Mathletes and is busy with his studies but Hermann comes along anyway because they both know that the whining is just part of the process.

They still have their movie nights, the three of them, except there’s less tension now. There are less flirty glances and giggly whispers and they all can sit an appropriate distance from one other. Newt looks over at Hermann every now and then and they grin at each other even if they don’t know exactly what for. Hermann starts to understand the cliché phrase ‘butterflies in one’s stomach’ and Tendo has this awful tendency of rolling their eyes at them like he knows something they don’t. Newt will shoot him a puzzled look and mouth ‘What?’ and Tendo will just smirk and turn his head back to the movie and say ‘Just pay attention to the fight scenes, nerds’.

…

Junior year Hermann gets a girlfriend.

Hermann.

Not Newt.

Her name is Vanessa and she goes to the Catholic girls’ school a few blocks away and goddamn, is she gorgeous.

On top of beauty, she’s got a mind as sharp as a tack and a few modeling deals even set up. Newt wants to hate her when he first meets her but can’t bring himself to when she not only tolerates his rants about the real-life probabilities of real-life monstrous attacks but contributes actual intelligent comments about his theories. Hermann lifts his chin and smiles proudly the whole time.

“Straight A’s and a smile that could kill,” Tendo says one day at lunch, “I guess we all know Gottlieb sure does have a type.”

Newt wonders what he means by that but is cut off before he can say a thing about it.

…

And then it’s senior year, who knows how it all came and went so fast, and Hermann and Newt aren’t exactly fighting as much as they are just not talking as much anymore. There’s no exact reason, just adolescent hormones and naïve tension is all. And Newt still sits on one side of the cafeteria with the jocks and Tendo and the pretty girls he never has the nerve to talk to and Hermann sits on the other side with the computer geeks and the mathletes. And they’re not mean, they’re civil, they’re friendly, they’re like everyone else in this goddamn school, except Newt knows they’re _not_ , for some reason, he knows they’re different but he can’t put a finger on exactly how. They still catch each other’s eyes in the hallways and smile awkwardly and sometimes Newt gives him a little wave but that’s almost all that’s left now.

And it doesn’t hit him until he’s sitting in his basement and he gets a text from Hermann saying _Can’t make it, sorry, maths club meets on Fridays now_ and he stares at the distorted reflection of himself in the television and the spot next to him where Hermann usually sits and yells at him for making too much noise and getting popcorn everywhere and it’s like a train hitting him out of this plane of reality.

He loves Hermann Gottlieb.

…

Fuck.

Newt loves him.

Newt loves him the same way a person breathes or walks or talks or thinks; unconsciously. No forethought, no warning signs, no nothing. He loves him like he loves his record collection or the warning signs he draws on his skin with markers when it gets to be too much inside his head. He doesn’t know when it started or what created it or how to let it go.

Newt loves him like if he stops he might cease to exist.

Newt loves Hermann like he could never love himself.

…

And it’s senior year, or at least it was, and Hermann is valedictorian, of course. And Newt tries and tries to get the courage to congratulate him, even just a quick, harmless text with a little smiley face at the end, but he deletes every text and prematurely ends every phone call.

Tendo drags him to a party after the ceremony even though he protests that he hates parties (which is a total fucking lie, he just loves to be dragged), and he gets plastered and almost hooks up with Julie Castellano but she throws her drink in his face at the last minute instead and suddenly he can’t find Tendo and he’s sticky and wet and he feels a little sick, if he’s being honest.

He sits out on the front lawn and stares at his phone, wondering exactly how much his dad will hate him if he has to call him and beg him to pick him up from a party at two AM because he’s too drunk and disoriented to get himself home. And then he reasons that he could always call Illia, but no, he’s in Africa on business for the week and plus he couldn’t do this to his poor uncle. And he finds himself flipping over and over down to Gottlieb, Hermann in his phonebook and he sighs and rubs a hand over his face before dialing regretfully.

Hermann answers the phone with more of a grunt than a greeting.

“Herms?” Newt says, trying to mask the fact that he feels like he’s going to cry. Or is that vomit? Either way. “God, I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah, that’s why I said the whole thing about waking you up. Keep up, dude.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just,” Newt scrapes his hand through his hair, “I kind of went to his party and got a little…yeah, and so now I can’t exactly drive or walk home or anything, and I hate asking you for this because I _know_ you hate to drive and everything but do you think you could—”

“Where are you?”

Hermann picks him up in the car his father had bought him as a ‘sorry-I-missed-your-birthday’ present despite the fact he hasn’t stepped into it once since it was given to him.

“I’m so sorry about this, Herms. Just take a left up here and—”

“I know the way.”

They ride in silence, Newt trying as hard as he can not to throw up in the car given the fact that somehow he never had the chance to find out that Hermann is a spectacularly terrible driver. That makes him sad for a few seconds until he remembers the whole drunken sickness thing and manages to forget about it for a second.

Hermann helps him inside, despite his protests that he’s ‘totally fine, super fine, fine as hell but you already know that, don’t you Hermann, hey-oh’. He drapes his arm around Hermann’s shoulder and stumbles inside. They somehow manage to get down to the basement without falling and Hermann all but dumps him onto the couch. He falls down on the ground, leaning his back against the couch and breathing heavily.

“Can’t believe you carried me across the threshold,” Newt says, turning his head and grinning, “Like a real gentleman.”

“Hardly carrying when you drag your feet on the ground the whole bloody time,” Hermann growls, “You should think about losing some weight.”

“You should think about gaining some, babes,” Newt laughs. “Don’t wanna be a scrawny fucker all your life, d’you?”

“Most people don’t seem to mind.”

“Right,” Newt says and laughs humorlessly. “Vanessa.”

Hermann pauses and then turns around to look at Newt, confused. “Newton,” he says slowly, “Vanessa and I are no longer together. We ended it. Two months ago.”

Newt blinks at him, dazed and more than a little inebriated. “Oh,” is all he can manage.

Hermann’s looking at him in this way Newt can’t decipher and that’s strange, because Newt has memorized Hermann, every line in his face and every quirk of his lips and every possible expression but he’s never seen this one. He’s never seen such darkness in his eyes and shyness in his posture and even in such minimal light he can make out the way his lips open and close, like he has something to say but all breath has escaped him at this very particular moment.

And maybe it’s the four cups of beer or maybe it’s the fact that he’s never been very good at holding back or, hell, maybe it’s just the fact that he’s in love with his best fucking friend, but whatever it is, it makes Newt reach his fingers out and wrap them around Hermann’s neck and pull him into a spiteful, obsessive, disastrous kiss.

And they’re young and they’re reckless and they’re eighteen and they’re kissing in his basement while his dad sleeps upstairs but it means something, fuck, it _means_ something. They’re eighteen and they’re kissing in his basement and the lights are off and the adrenaline is high and wow, it hurts, Newt’s whole body is numb and his head is lighter than air but god, does it ever hurt. And if he remembers nothing from this night all he’ll have left is fading memories of pain, bursts of self-loathing behind his eyelids and his whole mind at war with the world, whispering attack plans as he drifts further into the way the air feels empty when Hermann pulls away and his heart feels heavy in his chest as he falls asleep.

…

A whole summer goes by and they don’t speak once. No phone calls, no texts, no e-mails, not even a goddamn letter like the ones Hermann used to stick in his mailbox when they were kids. And Newt tells himself it’s because he’s busy, it’s because Hermann’s busy, because he’s got to get ready for MIT and Hermann’s probably doing something Very Important, Indeed. But it still hurts. He’d like it not to hurt, but it hurts.

…

The first kaiju attack happens while he’s in the middle of studying for his sixth doctorate and it crashes over him like a tidal wave. There’s terror and there’s fear but there’s also excitement and he has to push down the glee that bubbles in his chest because it’s not the place and it’s not the time but oh, God, is it ever and everyone hates him for it and he hates himself for it but that doesn’t stop him from covering the shitty tattoos on his arm with more accurate sketches. Because right now there’s a war and this time it takes place outside of the confines of his skull or the brim of his manic brain. Right now he has to cover his body like a walking warning sign and lift his chin and prepare himself to be a weapon of mass destruction because that’s what Dr. Newton Geiszler is. He’s a goddamn machine and he’ll die before he’s proved wrong.

(And it’s good and it’s fine and it’s great and it’s awesome but there’s still that emptiness in his chest and that pounding in his head that he has to swallow along with a few pills in the meantime.)

(But that’s okay for now.)

…

It’s not even a question whether he’ll join the PPDC. He’s a scientist, he’s a kaiju enthusiast, he’s fucking genius, hon, and don’t forget it. He’s gonna kill these things even if he kills himself in the process, and he’s gonna do it the way he knows no other science square would bother to.

No one pays attention to him at first. He’s the nerdy loser who _likes the kaiju_ , for God’s sakes. He’s loud and he’s crazed and he sometimes forgets his meds and goes off on some innocent bystander once in a while but mostly he’s just white noise.

They raise the stakes when the jaegers stop performing. The weak get weeded out and week after week Newt stands strong. He holds his breath for when an officer tells him to pack up his things and get the hell out of here, you fucking loser, but they never do so he keeps going and going and going and going and going until it hurts, until it absolutely breaks him, but, God, does he love being broken.

…

And it would all be perfect, everything would be falling into place for this magical fairy tale that has somehow become Newt’s life, if the Jaeger program wasn’t defunded.

That’s not even the bad bit. Who cares about a goddamn transfer when he’s finally proved to each and every person who’s doubted him that he is Head Science Bitch, he’s the best of the best, sweetheart, just look at the charts. The bad bit is the relocation to Hong Kong. The bad bit is a single name displayed under “ _K-Science Research Division_ ”.

…

_Dr. Hermann Gottlieb – K-Science and Number Projections Expert._

…

Newt leans against a lab table—his lab table, now—and nods toward Hermann’s cane. “What happened?” he forces a friendly grin. “Trip in the woods again? Told you not to go wandering around without me, Herms.”

“Kaiju attack,” Hermann says stoically, not even pretending to humor him.

Newt’s face falls and he stands up straighter. “Shit, I’m sorry, dude.”

“Right, well. It’s not your fault.”

 _If I wasn’t an idiot all those years ago maybe I could have protected you,_ Newt thinks. But he doesn’t say that. He says, “It’s nice to see you again, man.”

Hermann looks up and looks him in the eye for the first time for the first time in twelve years. “It’s nice to see you, too, Newton.”

…

They fall back into the arguments like it’s a second nature. Like bickering comes as easy as breathing or walking or talking or thinking.

After a particularly heated fight Newt remembers turning around and smiling fondly at the back of Hermann’s head. He doesn’t speak until Hermann turns around and glares at him suspiciously.

“I missed you, Herms,” Newt says softly.

Hermann looks caught off-guard and his face turns red and he’s flustered as all hell and it’s so cute Newt can feel his heart ripping apart in his chest. “Get back to work, Dr. Geiszler.” He turns back to his blackboard.

Newt grins smugly to himself and turns around. “I knew you missed me, too.”

…

Tendo arrives soon after Newt does and Newt drops his coffee mug when he sees him in a corridor. He thinks he must have imagined it for a second but Tendo passes by again and this time just faintly sees Newt out of the corner of his eye. He stops dead in his tracks and turns.

“ _Newt_?” he cries. He says even louder, “ _Hermann?_ ”

“What the _fuck_ , man?” Newt screams.

“Must we yell in a crowded venue?” Hermann asks meekly.

“Shut up, Hermann, and say hello to Tendo, for God’s sakes!”

“Gottlieb,” Tendo grins and bucks his chin up at him.

Hermann raises an eyebrow but allows a smile to escape his lips. He can’t remember for a second why he ever hated the man.

Tendo turns to Newt and smiles devastatingly. “ _Geiszler_. Jesus fucking Christ.” He pops the bagel in his mouth to free his hands and hug Newt so tight he starts giggling and Tendo actually lifts him off the ground a few seconds.

(That’s when Hermann remembers why.)

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Trespassing,” Tendo winks and pulls out his badge. “Nah. I’m a technician. What are _you_ assholes doing here?” He leans back and raises his eyebrows. “You’re not actually trespassing, are you, Newtie? ‘Cause that’s not cool.”

“Fuck off, dude, we’re scientists.”

“No kidding! I shoulda guessed. A couple of nerds like you.”

“Right, we can’t all be the high-and-mighty technicians.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

They do the chatter and witty banter thing Hermann realizes actual people tend to do with their actual friends and then they part ways, Tendo heading to the top of the Shatterdome and Hermann and Newt slinking back to the very bottom. Newt smiles the whole walk back and can’t stop shaking his head and saying, “Tendo Choi. Jesus Christ,” and Hermann wants to wring his neck and force himself to be the last thing Newt ever sees.

…

It’s two AM in the empty technician room and Tendo’s lured Newt out of the lab with the promise of beer. Real, genuine, grade-A German shit he managed to get past Pentecost.

“Hey,” Tendo says, grinning over at him sloppily. Their feet are up on the table and they’re leaning back in plush leather chairs. He knocks his boot against Newt’s. “Remember freshman year of high school—Godzilla in your basement?”

Newt laughs and jokes, “Hell yeah, man. Never forget your first love.”

Tendo raises an eyebrow at him and sits up a little straighter. “First love? What about Hermann?”

“Hermann?”

“Yeah, weren’t you two a thing? You most definitely were. You were the two piniest assholes at Pacific High.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“Don’t tell me you two never…”

“No,” Newt lies.

Tendo leans back in his chair. “That’s a shame, brother. I thought you two were a thing for sure.”

“Nope.” Newt brings the bottle to his lips and the alcohol burns his throat when he takes a gulp that’s just a tad too adventurous. “Never.”

…

“How are you settling in over there?”

“Pretty well, Dad.” Newt holds the phone to his ear in the crook of his shoulder and quickly scribbles something down in his notebook. “How’re you?”

“Very well, very well. Business is—well, you know how much people prioritize saving their lives over tuning their pianos. But things are fine.”

“Dad, if you need anything, I’m more than happy to help, I’m serious…”

“Hush, _liebling_. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Tell me about your exciting new job. How is saving the world?”

“God, Dad, I wish you’d chill out about all that stuff. I’m hardly saving the world. That’s the Jaegers’ jobs. I hope you’re not going around telling everybody in the neighborhood that.”

“The _Jaegers_ ’ jobs? Who do you think makes those Jaegers run, my boy?” He can hear his father smiling adoringly into the phone. “It’s not like you to be so humble, Newton. What happened to the little boy who would run around the house every time we had company telling everyone that he was going to be the world’s first scientist rock star?”

“Ugh, Dad,” Newt groans, but he grins to himself.

“How is Hermann?”

His back goes straight and he stops writing. “Uh. He’s fine, I guess.”

“Have you told him, yet?”

“Jesus,” he scrubs a hand over his face. “This is why most kids don’t tell their parents about their love lives.”

“You’re not most kids, Newt,” Jacob says fondly.

“You’re embarrassing me, Dad!” Newt mock-whines.

“I’m not sure if you can call pining after a boy since high school much of a love life, anyhow. By the time I was your age I was already married to my first wife.”

“Yeah, Dad, I get it, you’re a fox and I’m just the fox’s nerdy kid. Can we, like, not, now? For once?”

“I just don’t understand how fate can hand you this type of a card and you don’t jump on it. If you _love_ this boy—”

“I never said I _loved_ him, Jesus Christ!” Newt screeches. “I just said I _like_ him. I _maybe_ like him. I might not even like him at all!”

“Oh, Newt.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Would you be more comfortable talking to your uncle about this sort of thing?”

“No, Dad, please don’t—”

“Illia!” his muffled voice yells. Newt cringes and takes the phone away from his ear. “Newton is on the phone! He wants to talk to you about that boy he’s in love with!”

“I never said—”

“Newton, my dear boy. Have you done the deed yet?”

“Gross, dude. Don’t call sex a ‘deed’.”

“Have you made love yet?”

Newt groans and lays his head down on the desk. “I’m never calling you guys again. This is it. I’m going to end the world on purpose so I don’t have to endure another one of these phone calls.”

“Have you at least _kissed_ the boy yet, for Christ’s sakes, Newton?”

“No, Uncle Illia, I haven’t.”

“A shame,” he tsks. “A real shame. I remember the two of you. Like peas in a pod. The best of friends. You were _meant_ for each other, Newton. You should not throw that away.”

“Are we done now? Is this over? Can I go?”

“Newton, if there is not enough condoms over there in Hong Kong—I know how repressed those societies can be—I would be happy to send a care package—”

“ _No_ , Uncle Illia. No. Do you hear me? Do not send me a condom care package, okay? Alright? Wrong on so many levels. I’m pretty sure they monitor those things. Also, they sell condoms in Hong Kong! I don’t know where that exact stereotype comes from, but I’m willing to bet you could call that more than a little racist.”

“Newton?”

“What, Uncle Illia?”

“Do not let love pass you by,” he says seriously, and Newt feels like he might cry if he doesn’t hang up soon. “This is a good thing. I am happy for you. Don’t mess this up. I know you can do this. _Ich liebe dich_.”

“ _Danke_ , Illia. _Ich liebe dich_.”

Illia yells far too loudly for Newt’s dad again and after some shuffling Jacob’s voice comes back through the phone. “Newton?”

“Yeah, Dad. Still here.”

“Talk to Hermann,” he says, and after a long pause: “And be careful.”

“I am, _Papa_.”

“Come back safe.”

“I will.”

“ _Ich liebe dich_.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Newt hangs up and falls back onto his bed. He rubs his eyes until he sees stars and forces himself to focus on that and not the tears that shoot daggers beneath his eyelids.

…

It’s a quiet day in the lab, the type that tends to happen a few days or so preceding the death of a ranger.

Newt leans over his lab table, breathing heavily and suffocated by the deafening silence. “Hermann,” he says quietly, but his voice still pierces through the air nonetheless.

“Dr. Geiszler.”

He turns around and clutches the lab table so hard his knuckles go white. “Hermann,” he says again, “I wanna talk about what happened in high school.”

Hermann’s hand freezes, his fingers still holding the chalk poised to write. He takes a deep breath and continues writing. “What’s there to talk about?”

“No more of that bullshit. I’m sick of pretending like we didn’t kiss. Just talk to me, okay? Just look at me? Come on, buddy, please.”

“I don’t know what exactly you’d like to discuss.”

“I wanna talk about how we used to be best friends!” Newt cries. “I wanna talk about how we just, like, _didn’t talk_ for twelve whole years and then pretended like that was normal when we found each other again. I missed you, man. That shit wasn’t a joke. I’ve never been more serious in my whole goddamn life. I thought about you every day for twelve years. You know how long that is? That’s 4,380 days. That’s 6,307,200 minutes. I did the math out and everything. By the way, get a fucking Facebook, dude. It’s two-thousand-fucking-twenty, everyone has a Facebook, even dead people. How the hell am I supposed to lie in bed at three AM and properly miss you when all you have on the internet is a few photos of you accepting awards and some fucking papers published from, like, 2016. I need material, asshat. I need photo albums and nerdy status updates, you fucking dork.”

Hermann glares at him, one eyebrow raised. “Are you finished?”

“See, dude, I even missed that! The condescension and the dumb ‘I’m-Better-Than-You’ looks. That’s how crazy I am about you!” Newt steps forward and Hermann recoils, taking a step back when he sees the blue goo staining Newt’s gloves. Newt tears them off and wipes his hands on his pants and Hermann cringes at the sight. “ _Talk_ to me, man. Be a human being for, like, once.”

“Not all of us want to sit around a campfire and hold hands and share our feelings, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann snaps.

“Okay, but pretend they do.”

“Then my feelings are that I don’t have any feelings about what happened that night. I forgot about it and I suggest you do the same. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big…” Newt rushes up to Hermann and jabs a finger in his face. “Fuck _you_ , Hermann Gottlieb. It’s a—it’s a _huge_ fucking deal, thank you very much, you total fucking robot asshole. Goddamnit. God _damnit_. This is why I had to walk on eggshells around you in high school. I can’t believe you’re doing this. It’s like we’re teenagers again.”

“Some of us haven’t exactly matured out of adolescence,” Hermann sneers down at him.

“Don’t do that, you goddamn fucking asshole,” Newt snarls. “You’re not gonna get out of this by insulting me. Not this fucking time. We are talking about this, whether you want to or not.”

“Fine!” Hermann yells. “I’m sorry. I apologize.”

Newt staggers back, confused. “Apologize? For what?”

“For kissing you, you utter prat,” he hisses.

“Herms,” Newt says helplessly, “You didn’t kiss me.”

Hermann furrows his brows at him. “How drunk were you that night?”

“No, I mean, we kissed, obviously,” Newt stammers, “But, like, _you_ didn’t kiss _me_. _I_ kissed _you_.”

Hermann shakes his head. “You were drunk. You weren’t in the right state of mind. I could have resisted, but I didn’t. It’s my fault, as the sober one.”

“Your fault for what?” Newt asks. “Hermann, don’t you get this? Don’t you know what this means? If I kissed you and you kissed me, that means we kissed each other.”

“That is how it works, Newton.”

“No, _list_ en to me for a sec, you insufferable fuck,” Newt says and slips in a quiet ‘sorry’ before continuing. He backs Hermann up to his lab table, shoving him against the edge and only for a second remembering to mind his bad leg. “Do you know how much time I’ve wasted thinking—obsessing over you? Over how I thought I just kissed you and ruined everything? Do you know how much—how much I’ve, I’ve absolutely _hated_ myself, how many sleepless nights I’ve had because I thought if I ever saw you again you’d spit in my face or tell me to go fuck myself? Do you know how many times I’ve dialed your number and then pressed end, how many texts and emails I’ve typed out apologizing and tell you I love you? You _prick_. I can’t believe it never occurred to me to be angry at _you_ , for God’s sakes, for not reaching out. Not once. Not even once. I got six doctorates to impress you, Hermann. I stayed in school for I don’t know how long. I spent half my life escaping you just to find you again, and I didn’t even want to by that time.” Hermann is gaping down at him, at Newt tearing his hair out and gritting his teeth to stop the tears. “All that and you kissed me. _You_ kissed me. You _kissed_ me. You kissed _me_. Godfuckingdamnit, Hermann, we’re so goddamn stupid. We’re such idiots, you know that? We’re supposed to be the smartest men in the entire human race, Copyright Germany, to save the world and put a neat little bow on it. We’re supposed to be geniuses, and we couldn’t even stay together.”

“We were eighteen,” Hermann says softly, “We didn’t know anything.”

“I knew how to take a computer apart and put it back together,” Newt says, crazed. “I knew the entire periodic table backwards and forwards. I knew how to play guitar and sing Metallica in German. I was eighteen, Hermann. I knew everything. Everything except what I needed to fucking know.”

“Newton,” Hermann says gently. “I don’t hate you.”

Newt closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up to rub at them.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann says.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Newt says, and it’s half a laugh and half a sob. “We’ve already established that. I’m the idiot here, remember?”

“I’m not sorry for kissing you. And I’m not sorry you kissed me. I’m sorry I didn’t know I loved you. And I’m sorry that when I did, I denied it.”

Newt smiles and leans forward and buries his face in Hermann’s sweater. “How the hell are we gonna save the world, Herms,” he asks. “We’re such idiots it’s a wonder we can get dressed in the morning.”

Hermann smiles and pats Newt’s shoulder awkwardly. Newt looks up and grins at him.

“I love you, Hermann Gottlieb,” he says, and it’s like someone’s just punched him in the gut and taken the cross off his back at the same time.

“I suppose you’re not totally useless as well.”

“You _dickhead_ ,” Newt laughs and throws a punch he doesn’t actually want to hit. Hermann catches it and lets Newt kiss him senseless and maybe dig his hips a little too hard against the edge of the lab bench.

…

They don’t hold hands.

They don’t do PDA. They don’t make eyes at each other in the company of others. They don’t stop fighting. They don’t use pet names (at least not any more than Newt usually does). They don’t share clothes. They don’t stand too close to each other or spend more time than usual together.

Somehow, God knows how, Tendo knows.

He walks in one day, clipboard in hand and a bagel between his teeth, and freezes. Newt and Hermann are on their usual opposite sides of the room, diligently working and making passing remarks to each other, only half of which are biting. Tendo makes a big show of taking the bagel out of his mouth, sniffing the air, turning around and surveying every corner of the lab, stepping out of the room and then back in, sniffing the air again, and then blurting out, “You assholes kissed!”

Hermann stares at him, mortified, and Newt groans, covering his face with his hands.

“You _douchebag_!” Tendo yells, pointing at Newt. “You _text_ me about these things. You are supposed to text your friends while you’re riding that dick.”

“Oh my _fuck_ , Tendo,” Newt cries. “Give it a rest for, like, five seconds.”

“You two didn’t have sex yet, did you? I didn’t even get a chance to make a cake yet!”

Hermann is white as a sheet and looks like he might faint. Newt says, “You’re gonna kill him if you keep this up.”

“Right. Sorry. Need to keep his heart rate up.” He winks. “I’ll leave you two goofy kids at it. Don’t break any expensive equipment! Call me if you need any aphrodisiacs.”

As he leaves Newt raises an eyebrow and says, “I don’t even think he was kidding about that last part.” He looks over and Hermann’s eyes are still wide and it doesn’t look as if he’s actually breathing. Newt rushes over to him and says, “Jesus Christ, dude, in and out, in and out, for God’s sakes.”

Hermann closes his eyes and sighs. “Your friends are impossible.”

“Hey,” Newt says, “He’s _our_ friend now. That’s what you signed up for. Package deal, kiddo.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

Newt steps back and slaps him on the back. “Don’t do it on my side.”

Hermann rolls his eyes menacingly and goes back to his work. Newt smiles adoringly at him until Hermann turns around and glares, making Newt blush and duck his head. Hermann turns back to his blackboard with just the hint of a satisfied grin tracing his lips.

…

“Jesus Christ,” Newt gasps as Hermann sucks a bruise into his neck. “Jesus Christ.”

Hermann is lying on top of him between Newt’s spread legs with a pillow underneath his knee for comfort. Newt lifts his hips up and grinds against him desperately, his head bent back over the pillows as he swears under his breath. They’re both fully clothed and an absolute vision of juvenile desire.

“I can’t believe we never did this in high school,” Newt laughs, out of breath.

Hermann leans down, breathing heavily, and kisses Newt if not to just shut him the hell up. As he predicts, it’s no use.

“I’m so mad I sold my car when I moved to Hong Kong,” he says into his mouth. “I’ve always wanted to have sex in that thing. I can’t be _lieve_ we never did this in high school, Herms.”

“Newton,” Hermann says through his teeth, “Shut up, will you?”

Newton grins and kisses him harder, all teeth and groping hands. It’s that moment that Herc Hansen decides to burst through the door.

“Pentecost needs—oh, fuck,” he says, staring at them with wide eyes. “Uh. Sorry to, ah. Interrupt. Pentecost needs—Pentecost—all personnel to the Shatterdome, yeah?” He looks around the room, not exactly sure what to do. Newt and Hermann both gape at him, still in their embarrassingly compromising position. Herc reaches over and pulls the door closed. “You know these things lock, right?” he says, a bit angrily, before slamming it shut.

Hermann collapses on top of Newt, banging his head on his collarbone. “You didn’t _lock_ the _bloody door_?”

“Guess I forgot,” Newt says, grinning apologetically. “Heh.”

Hermann pinches him. “You goddamned idiot.”

“Look on the bright side. Least all we were doing was dry humping. I wanted to do a lot more, to be honest.”

Hermann grumbles against his skin.

“Plus,” Newt continues, “All part of the high school experience, right? I mean, what’s a makeout sesh without Mom walking in on you right as you’re about to come?”

“Mom?” Hermann asks, lifting his head. “Who is our father in this scenario?”

“Pentecost, obvs. Keep up, Hermie.”

“Of course.” Hermann rolls his eyes and sits up and starts to put his button up on over his tee shirt.

Newt sits up and pouts. “Ugh. Now I’m gonna have to sit through a lecture with a hard-on. This really is high school.”

Hermann glances over at him and grins slyly. “We still have a few minutes before they realize we’re not there yet.”

Newt laughs and leans forward, kissing him quickly and swallowing Hermann’s squawks. “God, I love you, you old, horny bastard.”

“Shut up and get your pants off.”

…

Tendo insists on taking them out for some real human food to celebrate for “finally giving in and making out after, like, a thousand years of everyone knowing before you idiots did”.

They go out to a sketchy sushi place Hermann is really hesitant on trying but Tendo insists makes the best shit in town, trust him. Newt drags him inside and urges him to take a chance for once.

Hermann grumbles about food poisoning and all the various ways one can die from improperly prepared fish, but shuts up once he gets the first piece in his mouth.

“This is fucking _rad_ , dude, what in the actual hell,” Newt cries, shoveling sushi into his mouth.

“I told you,” Tendo smirks. “Never doubt the Tend-meister.”

“Please don’t call yourself that,” Newt says with his mouth full.

“Chew, Newton,” Hermann sighs.

“Aw. You guys are cute. So,” Tendo leans forward and rests his chin on his closed fists like they’re gossiping at a slumber party. “Tell me everything. I thought I knew the whole story but apparently I didn’t. Was this week your first kiss?”

Newt looks at Hermann nervously and says, “Uh. Not exactly.”

“Oh, this is good. I can tell already. Who liked who first?”

Newt and Hermann both turn towards each other, puzzled.

“Shit,” Newt says. “I don’t even know.”

“It was definitely you,” Hermann says defiantly, expertly using his chopsticks to delicately place a piece of sushi in his mouth.

“What? Are you kidding me? It was not.”

“Please,” Hermann scoffs.

“Okay,” Newt reasons, “We’ll both say the moment we for sure felt like we might like each other at the same time. Alright? On the count of three.”

Tendo grins and counts down excitedly, “One…two…”

“Senior year,” Newt says.

“Third grade,” Hermann says.

Hermann continues to eat silently and Newt lays his chopsticks down, gaping at him. Tendo is frozen in place and his jaw looks like it might never close again.

“Third grade?” Newt grabs Hermann’s arm and shakes it a little. “Hermann—look at me—you liked me in _third grade_? And you didn’t say anything?”

“Neither did you,” Hermann protests.

“ _Her_ mann,” Newt screeches. “Hermann, that’s—that’s the sweetest goddamn thing anyone’s ever fucking said to me. I’m so fuckin’ serious. I _love_ you, Hermann. No kidding.”

Hermann’s face turns red and he keeps eating even though he’s really, really not hungry anymore.

“Yes, well,” he says, like it pains him, “I feel the same.”

“Hermann,” Newt says lovingly and buries his face in the sleeve of his jacket. “You _love_ me. You love me so goddamn fucking much. You’ve loved me all through elementary and middle and high school. You big old fucking sap. You _love_ me.”

“Perhaps love isn’t the right word,” Hermann says bitingly. “Perhaps I just got used to your voice. It hasn’t exactly changed since puberty.”

Newt laughs and punches him in the arm. “I bet I loved you since third grade, too, Hermie-kins. I was just too dumb to know it.”

“You do have a track record in that area.”

“Would you two _stop_ it?” Tendo says, faking a gag. “I’m gonna throw up over here.”

“Maybe it’s the second-rate seafood restaurant sushi.”

“Hey,” Tendo says defensively, pointing a finger right in Hermann’s face. “You hold your goddamn tongue about _Sush-It To the Limit_.”

Hermann raises an eyebrow and pops another piece of sushi in his mouth.

“Okay, more details,” Tendo pries. “First kiss. _Real_ first kiss.”

“The basement,” Newt says, and he can picture it vividly in his mind. He’s pictured it so many times before. “My basement. Graduation day—er, morning after, to be precise—after that party we went to. Hermann gave me a ride home and he helped me downstairs and we started talking and I just kissed him.”

“Graduation day—you two didn’t kiss until the very last moment? Literally?” Tendo widens his eyes at them. “That’s some Jane Eyre shit.”

Hermann blushes, scratching the back of his neck shyly. Newt shrugs and nods, stuffing himself with sushi.

“So, wait,” Tendo says, “I was your first kiss? Not Hermann? Aw, how sweet. I feel so special.”

Hermann’s head jerks up at that and he stares at Tendo in disbelief. Newt feels the air escape from his lungs and sushi fall out of his mouth.

“Shit,” Tendo says, “What’d I say?”

Hermann looks at Newt and Newt looks at Hermann and they both stare at each other for much too much time.

“Tendo?” Hermann asks. “Your first kiss?”

“I never told you…I just didn’t think it was…? Important? I had forgotten about it, to be honest.”

“Wow, thanks,” Tendo says sarcastically.

“Shut up, Tendo,” Newt hisses. “I mean, it’s not like _I_ was _your_ first kiss, either. Vanessa, remember?”

“Yes, but… _Tendo_.”

“Am I toxic? Do I have cooties? What’s going on?”

“Hermann…”

“I should get back to the Shatterdome.” Hermann stands up too quickly and it hurts his leg and his chair almost falls but he grabs his coat and limps out the door as quickly as he can. Newt grits his teeth together and sighs and holds his head in his hands.

“Did I fuck that up?” Tendo asks tentatively.

“Nah, dude,” Newt says, his voice shaking a little. He doesn’t lift his head. “Don’t worry about it. I fucked that up. ‘S not your fault, honestly.”

Tendo stands up and throws his coat over his shoulder. He comes around the table and pats Newt on the back. “I’m sorry, man. Come on. Let’s get you back.”

Newt nods and stands up and Tendo politely pretends not to see the redness brimming his eyes.

…

“Hermann! Hey, Hermann, buddy!” Tendo runs to catch up with him. Kid’s got speed when he wants to; it’s impressive as all hell, if he’s being honest.

“Yes, Mr. Choi,” Hermann says, reviewing the papers in his hand intensely, “May I help you?”

“Ay, none of that.” Tendo grabs his arm and jerks him to a stop. Hermann raises an eyebrow and glowers down at him beneath his reading glasses. “I’ve known you since you were twelve, dude, you’re not gonna pull that shit with me. Talk to me.”

“About what, Mr. Choi?”

“Cut it out with that shit, Hermann. Come on.”

“If you want to talk about my personal life, there is a time and a place. And that time and place is not in a crowded Shatterdome in the middle of a work day.”

“Look, Herms, if you’re mad at me, be mad at me, okay? Punch me or whatever. Do whatever you gotta do. I don’t care, honestly, I don’t. I’m sorry I kissed your boyfriend, okay? But in my defense, it was almost twenty years ago, and also you didn’t start dating till last week.”

“I’m not angry at you,” Hermann sighs, closing his eyes in frustration.

“Then why is Newt moping around like a little bitch?” Tendo cries. “He hasn’t spoken all morning. I saw him pine after you in high school, dude. This isn’t as bad, obviously, but, hell, it’s pretty close.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’m working.”

“Actually, I mind, kind of a fuckin’ lot, friend,” Tendo snaps and jabs him in the chest. “Would you please just tell me why you’re acting like a total dick about all this?”

“Do you know how much time I wasted being jealous over you?” Hermann snarls, and suddenly he’s towering over him. Tendo staggers back and feels like his mouth is glued shut. “Six years. Six bloody years I allowed myself to hate you simply for being more charismatic than I. Don’t misunderstand me, Tendo Choi—I blame no one but myself for that. But in that restaurant last night, I felt envy again. I haven’t felt envy since I was eighteen goddamn years old. And that’s what you make me feel like. You make me feel childish. You remind me of my mistakes. You make me realize over and over again that I could have had the best thing to ever happen to me twelve years ago, but because I was a fool who thought himself a genius, I didn’t. And I suffered. And the fact that Newton doesn’t know that—doesn’t _understand_ how much turmoil you and him both put me through—that’s. That’s too much. And I’m sorry if I overreacted, but tell me, could you blame me? If you had known Alison nearly twenty years ago and had every chance to have her to yourself, wouldn’t you hate yourself, just a little bit, for not doing so sooner?”

Tendo stares at him. “Hermann…”

“Tell Newton I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him as much as I did. I know he is sensitive.” Hermann sighs and takes his glasses off his face to rub at the bridge of his nose. “I’m not really angry at him. I’m just—an idiot. Although I’m sure that’s not news in any sort of capcity.”

Tendo smiles and slaps him on the arm. “Don’t worry about it, buddy. Just don’t leave him hanging too long, alright? He thinks you’re gonna break up with him over this.”

Hermann’s eyes pop open and go incredibly wide. “He _what_?”

“He’s all broken up about it. Won’t even touch the fresh kaiju innards—”

“I’m sorry, pardon me.” Hermann shoves through the crowd and hurries out of the room, totally ignoring the searing flashes of pain running through his leg.

…

“You _imbecile_.”

“Hermann,” Newt says, his voice cracking. He sits at a stool next to his lab bench and covers his eyes with his open palm. “Please, _please_ don’t yell at me right now. Please don’t. Not now. I couldn’t take it.”

“I can’t believe you,” Hermann says, out of breath. He hobbles over to Newt.

“Hermann, I—”

Hermann cuts him off by grasping his face tightly in his hands and kissing him with fervor. He pulls back and breathes heavily against Newt’s lips, bumping their foreheads together. Newt stares at him, his mouth still hanging open.

“I’d never stop seeing you out of some sort of infantile jealousy,” Hermann hisses. “Not ever, Newton.”

Newt grabs his arms and nods desperately, pulling him into another desperate kiss. “I’m sorry, Hermann, I’m so, so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Herman says through gritted teeth. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, Herms, you’re smart as all hell. You’re the rock god of arithmetic, no kidding.”

Hermann laughs breathily against Newt and he smiles in response. He whispers, “ _Ich liebe diche_ ” because it’s easier to say quietly and in another language.

Newt clutches him gratefully and laughs like he might die. “I love you, too, dude.”

…

When Newt proposes he wants everything to be perfect. He books a dinner at a fancy restaurant and plans to take Hermann through the more secluded streets of Hong Kong so he can get down on one knee under the stars.

Instead, the kaiju have different plans and decide to attack a few days earlier than Hermann had predicted. So they work. Working is good. Working is fine. Working is a fixed constant in an otherwise chaotic life. It’s not as if they can call in sick, after all.

It’s one AM when they stumble out of the control room and stagger back to Hermann’s doorstep. Newt lets him lean on him the whole way there and makes the wise decision not to say anything jocular or mocking about it. Hermann thanks him wordlessly with a soft kiss before he goes to disappear into his room.

“Wait, Herms,” Newt says, grabbing his arm to stop him. “I was hoping we could do something…special tonight.”

“Can’t it wait till another night, Newton?” Hermann begs. “I’m exhausted.”

“I know, I know, just humour me, okay, babes?” Newt pleads. He flashes a wide, lopsided grin. “I got us something for tonight.”

Hermann raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Did you, now?”

Newt reaches into his back pocket and Hermann stands up straighter, trying to warn him with his eyes not to bring a sex toy out in the middle of the bloody hallway, for the love of God. Instead his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide when Newt gets down on one knee and pulls out a little velvet box.

“Newton,” Hermann gasps.

“I prepared a whole gushy speech and everything, so blink once if you wanna hear it and blink twice if this is all a waste of my time and you’re just gonna laugh in my face.” Hermann stares at him, his mouth agape. “Okay, I’m gonna take that as a ‘keep going’. Basically, I love you. That part’s obvious, no spoilers there. I’ve loved you since, like, I don’t even know, man. Maybe when I found you in the woods that one time when we were kids? ‘Member that? Maybe it was junior high or maybe it was high school or maybe it was way before that, who fucking knows, dude, maybe I was born loving you, because for real, sometimes it kinda feels like that. You weren’t my first kiss, but you were my first real kiss. And you were my, uh, my first, if you know what I mean. Which, don’t tell anyone about that, or, like, make fun of me for that one, dude. Getting your doctorate is _hard_. And girls like doctors a lot less than TV promised. Not important. Not important, not important, not important. Okay, whatever, so, the gist of this is that I love you and it’s been four years but really it’s been, like, a lifetime, literally, and every time I see you I feel like I’m gonna throw up but in a good way? And, ah, I love waking up next to you and the funny way your nose sort of whistles in your sleep, you know you do that? And the smile you get when you think no one’s looking—which is a rookie move, by the way, because I am _always_ looking, Herms—and the cute way you get all pouty when you’re mad and the funny way your whole face sort of lights up when you laugh—don’t look at me like that, dude, it sounds cheesy as hell but it’s true, it does that, I swear to god, look in the mirror sometime—and, like, I don’t even know, man. I’ve known you since I was eight but for some reason I didn’t know I loved you until I was eighteen or that I needed you until I was thirty and now I feel like if you’re anywhere but right next to me I’ll die. I’m not even kidding, I will literally die. You’re my lifeline, Hermie baby, Hermie darling, and I want to tattoo the backs of my eyelids with your face and write your name under ‘cause of death’ on my gravestone. You’re everything, Hermann Gottlieb, and that’s not even a joke. So please say yes, because I think that group of technicians is watching us and my knee is _really_ starting to hurt, goddamn, they don’t say anything about that in all those viral proposal videos. Hermann?” Newt pushes himself up so he’s half-kneeling and half-standing. “Hermann? You okay, bud?”

Hermann is white as snow and he’s blinking and opening and closing his mouth like crazy. “I feel as though I may faint.”

“Jesus, Christ, drama queen, okay, let’s get you inside, quick, before a rumor starts going around that you faked your own death to get out of marrying me.” He shoves him inside and waves to the group of technicians before calling out, “That wasn’t a no!” and disappearing inside.

Hermann sits down at the edge of the bed and Newt kneels between his legs.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he says softly, massaging his leg slightly.

Hermann scowls. “Don’t call me that, you twat.”

“Good to know you’re still an old hag on one of the potentially happiest days of your life.”

“I’m sorry, Newton. I’m not ungrateful. Just…surprised.”

“Well, be less surprised. It’s been four years. Not exactly out of the blue.”

Hermann grins a little at him. “Was I really your first?”

Newt blushes. “I mean…technically, yeah…”

Hermann narrows his eyes and widens his grin. “How was I?”

“Fuck off, dude!” Newt shoves him lightly. “Now is not the time to toy with my emotions, I’m serious! I need an answer. I told my dad we’d Skype him right after.”

“You told your _father_?”

“Hermann, I called him after we had sex for the first time. Why would I not tell him about our proposal?”

“You _what_?”

“Shit. That’s right. Forgot to tell you about that one. Well, now we can laugh about it. Anyways. Yes or no?”

“You already know the answer.”

“Well, yeah, but I want you to say it, so we can pretend to be normal human beings for, like, five minutes, at the most.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Come _on_! Herms!” Newt whines and throws a mock tantrum. “I wanna tell people I married my high school sweetheart. I want to be one of those annoying assholes.”

“I’m not sure it counts if you don’t start dating until ten years after high school.”

“Twelve years.”

“You realize you aren’t strengthening your argument in any conceivable way.”

“ _Hermann_!”

“Yes. Okay. Fine. I will marry you if you’ll stop being so bloody bothersome about the whole ordeal.”

Newt smiles up at him and kisses him. “You’re such an old sap, you know that?”

“Get the hell out of my room, Geiszler. Get some sleep.”

“Are you kidding me?” Newt laughs, standing up and climbing on the bed to straddle Hermann’s waist. “We’re getting married, fuckface! My heart’s racing! No way in _hell_ we’re sleeping tonight.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t be decent and take the blushing bride role quietly for once.” Hermann says it disdainfully but his hands snake up to cradle Newt’s hips. “What do you propose we do, doctor?”

Newt grins and kisses him again. “Some experiments,” he says, winking, and Hermann pretends to gag at the corniness of that line. Newt tells him to shut the hell up and tackles him on the bed, giggling and wrestling gently with him until he lets Hermann pin him down and kiss him so hard he forgets where he is for a second.

…

They don’t wear their rings in public so as not to make a fuss or lose them in the unending mess that is the K-Science lab. Nonetheless, Newt finds himself reaching in his pocket throughout the next few weeks to play with the band and roll it around his fingertips. He sometimes looks up to catch Hermann smiling at him and beams back at him knowingly.

The next day when Tendo walks in he stops, just like he did four years ago, and stares at them. “Something is different.” He squints at Newt, whose face has gone a little red. “It can’t be the sex thing. We already had cake for that one.” He walks toward them, looking them both up and down. “Not kids. You two wouldn’t have ‘em until after this whole kaiju thing blows over. Can’t be a proposal, ‘cause you’re not wearing rings—” Newt’s eyes go wide at that and Tendo gasps. “You shit. You _shit_. _Tell_ me you didn’t pop the fucking question without telling me first. _Tell_ me.”

Newt smiles apologetically and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black wedding band.

“You mother _fucker_!” Tendo yells and grabs Newt by the neck, ruffling his hair wildly. It’s impossible to tell whether he means it angrily or affably. “You never used to be this good at keeping secrets, Jesus Christ. I think this one’s a bad influence on you.” He points at Hermann. Hermann rolls his eyes but smirks all the same.

Newt ducks out of Tendo’s grip and pouts, coiffing his hair helplessly. “Goddamnit, Tendo. It took me twenty minutes to get the perfect bedhead.”

“I _knew_ you used product, you stupid bastard. ‘This is how it falls naturally, Tendo!’ my ass,” Tendo mocks him and puts on a screechy impression of Newt. He turns to Hermann. “Who asked? Was it him? It was him, wasn’t it. Nothing but a sappy old romantic, that one is.”

“Last night after the attack. He asked me on the stoop outside my room. Like a bloody fool. I said yes out of sleep deprivation.”

“Sleep deprivation,” Newt scoffs, “Someone wasn’t too sleep deprived to spend the next hour doing something else as well…”

“Newton!” Hermann scolds him and Newt and Tendo giggle together.

“So have you guys set a date yet or what?”

“Uh,” Newt glances over at Hermann. “No. I didn’t really think that far ahead. I guess just…after we save the world?”

Hermann bends his head to get back to work and Newt pretends that his stomach doesn’t totally flip over when he sees the small smile Hermann tries and fails to suppress in that moment.

…

After the drift Hermann sees all the times Newt’s chickened out on a date out of sheer anxiety or all the times in high school he’d sit staring at Hermann while he wasn’t looking thinking about how his lips would taste against his or the countless nights he’d spend forgetting to eat or sleep or breathe or think normally consumed with the fear that Hermann might hate him forever—

And Newt sees all the ways Hermann has closed his eyes tight when he’s kissed others and pretended they were Newt instead and all the times when they were little that he considered taking Newt’s hand in his or the times when he would lie in bed at night, unable to sleep or function properly without thinking about Newt’s hands in his hair teeth in neck hips against his—

That night Newt fucks him into the mattress like the world is ending even though they know for a fact firsthand that it’s not.

…

Newton Geiszler is a nerd.

Newton Geiszler has seven leather jackets and twelve AC/DC tee shirts and has seen _Godzilla_ fifty-three times. Newton Geiszler can’t really play guitar anymore but he vaguely remembers the chords and he’s learning Hermann’s favorite classical pieces on the piano. Newton Geiszler can has forgotten how to say periodic table backwards and forwards in one minute flat with his eyes closed but he can still switch between fluent English and German without hesitation. Newton Geiszler is co-head of the K-Science division of the PPDC, although that title’s quickly becoming less of a job and more of a legend now that he’s effectively defeated the kaiju and saved the world. Newton Geiszler has tattoos covering his back and chest and arms and is making plans to get one on his neck, despite the adamant protests of his fiancé (because they both know it’s much less discouragement and much more badly enforced reverse-psychology). Newton Geiszler isn’t a rock star, but he’s pretty fucking close, and pretty fucking close isn’t exactly something to scoff at.

Newton Geiszler is a nerd, but he doesn’t think he minds much anymore.

Hermann Gottlieb still seems to only own clothes that are either ten sizes two large or too small for him—there is no in between. Hermann Gottlieb still only has two emotions: grandpa and super grandpa. Hermann Gottlieb still scowls at the mention of fun and is still frightened by any music that isn’t classical and, like, two decibels loud. Hermann Gottlieb still loves math and nerdy scientists who sometimes can’t find the courage to love themselves. Hermann Gottlieb has a stupid haircut and amazing bone structure and gorgeous laugh lines and when he smiles Newt forgets how to breathe and his knees feel weak. Hermann Gottlieb kisses like it’s a promise and fucks like it’s his last wish.

Hermann Gottlieb is still a nerd. But Newt thinks if he was anything but he wouldn’t have been worth the wait.

Newt never meets Lars Gottlieb. He never knew him as a child and he doesn’t get to know him as an adult, for reasons he refuses to pry about, even though he really, really, really wants to.

Hermann’s known Jacob and Illia Geiszler all his life, but when he meets them again in 2025 as their soon to be son/nephew-in-law and sticks his hand out Jacob and Illia crowd him into a hug like their son’s returned from war. Coincidentally, Jacob’s actual son who _has_ returned from war gets nothing more than a wink and a thumb’s up. Newt rolls his eyes and makes them promise not to grill him too hard.

On their wedding day Lars doesn’t show up, which isn’t a surprise, but it still hurts. Hermann cries into Newt’s shoulder before the ceremony even though Newt jokes that he’s not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony. Illia and Jacob force their way into Newt’s room and suffocate them both into one of many hugs. And Jacob takes Hermann’s hand and tells him that no matter what Hermann will always be a second son to him and he will love him unconditionally, no matter what. Hermann walks down the aisle with blotchy cheeks and red eyes and tears up every time someone shows the slightest bit of affection towards him.

After that Newt makes a point to kiss Hermann every day and tell him he loves him, even if they’re fighting or if it’s inconvenient. And sometime he catches Hermann smiling to himself right after, touching his fingertips to his lips like he wants to save it forever and something in Newt breaks but he thinks that’s a good thing.

Even after knowing each other for fifteen years and dating for five Newt is still shocked when he wakes up and sees Hermann lying in bed next to him. Even after fifteen years every kiss is still an explosion and every smile is still awe-inspiring and every declaration of love still makes Newt’s heart pound faster and butterflies start fluttering around in his stomach.

In Newt’s vows he apologizes for not spending the first ten years they knew each other telling Hermann he was the most perfect in gorgeous man in the world or kissing him like he needed to be kissed or admitting he loved him like he needed to be loved. He promises to pick him up every time he trips in the woods and accept his criticisms on all his monster drawings instead of fighting them and the next time Hermann tells him not to drift with a monster that’s tried to destroy the world alone, he’ll at least pretend to listen. He smiles and tries not to cry when Hermann tells him the exact probability of them finding each other in the circumstances that they found each other and how he’d trade every number in the world if it meant staying with Newt forever, even if that is all illogical nonsense and Newt wrote that last bit into his speech without his permission. When they kiss Tendo cheers louder than anyone else in the crowd and Mako has to grab him and calm him down so he doesn’t pull a Tendo and streak down the aisle or something.

…

In the car ride away from the reception, Hermann wipes his eyes and says, “Shit, don’t most married people have honeymoons? I never thought to plan one out.”

“Don’t worry about it, babes,” Newt grins. “I booked two tickets to Hawaii, two tickets to Jamaica, and two tickets to Aruba.”

“Newton,” Hermann sneers.

“Let me finish! And _then_ I leaked them to the press and an ‘anonymous source’ sent them on a wild goose chase to photograph us everywhere we went.”

“Newton,” Hermann growls, “I do hope I haven’t just married you to divorce you two hours later.”

“Now, the press are off searching for us,” Newt digs in his pockets and pulls out two flight tickets, “And I know you hate hot weather, so I got us two tickets to Alaska under the names Sir Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, ‘cause I know your nerdy ass would rather study penguins in Alaska or some shit than have sex with me on the beaches of Jamaica.”

Hermann scowls at him but leans forward and kisses him so hard their teeth clack together. “I love you, you pompous kaiju groupie.”

Newt grins and kisses him back. “I love you, too, you boring old hack.”

“Shut up and close the divider so I can give you your wedding present.”


End file.
